


What dreams may come

by falchionpunch



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Coping, Dark Knight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falchionpunch/pseuds/falchionpunch
Summary: "For love is the greatest emotion of all. It is a veritable force of nature, transcending reason as it moves us to action. Causing old wounds to tear open anew, again, and again, and again..."They'd never admit it, but the Warrior of Light has a hard time coming to terms with the past.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	What dreams may come

As Ardbert’s shade passes through the door, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you. No matter how much traveling you do (and you’ve done a lot of traveling), arriving in a new place always comes with a certain type of tiredness, and this particular journey drained you more than most others.

You sit heavily on your new bed, lost in thought about the reflections of your past you saw as you were summoned to the First. Ardbert had been there, of course, in the moment at which you felt you had failed him the most, but so had so many others. So many other faces of people you had let down, including one face you wished you could say you’d never forget, but the details of which were growing fuzzier with the passage of time...

No. You shake your head as if physically trying to banish the thought. _We’ve been through this already_ , you tell yourself, though you’re not sure which part of you is speaking. _We’ve moved on. We know better._

At this point it’s not worth the effort to remain conscious. You lay down and pull the covers over your head to block out the interminable Light, and attempt to fall into a restful sleep.

It doesn’t work. You find yourself in a large field, empty save for…

No...

In the middle of the field sits a blue haired elezen man with his back towards you. But you don’t need to see his face to know who he is. You half run, half stumble towards him, and as he hears your approach, he turns to face you with a smile more radiant than the Light outside your bedroom window. You stare, speechless, as he pats the ground next to him, inviting you to sit.

You do, and then all but collapse against his side, head resting on his shoulder, partially because the emotional weight is too much to bear, mostly because you just want to feel that he’s here, that he’s actually here. He shifts a bit to better accommodate you, but otherwise doesn’t react. You stare out into the empty field, not really looking at it, lost in your thoughts.

The two of you sit in a silence that’s somehow both comfortable and tense for a while before you finally say, “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you, you know.”

He fidgets again but still says nothing, so you continue. “I tried so hard to be strong since then. To--to keep smiling, like you said. It seemed to be what everyone expected of me. But I didn’t feel strong at all. I wanted to see you again so badly--” Your hand clenches into a fist. How do you tell someone that both your guilt at how you had failed them and your inability to let go of the past nearly killed others you were close to? ...Perhaps some things were better left unsaid.

And so you go on, skirting the details, your fist slowly tightening as you continue. “But I learned to move on. I accepted that the dead are dead, and should stay dead. I learned to forgive myself for the deaths I had directly caused and for...for those who had died for me.” Your voice breaks, “I should be happy but I don’t know why you’re here.”

He still doesn’t move. Cautiously, you look up at him, but his gaze is fixed on the horizon. Is he avoiding you? Did you upset him? You must have upset him. But you can’t look away. Instead you try to recommit his face to memory. The angle of his jaw. The slope of his nose. The color of his eyes (though clearly you could never forget the color of his hair). Had he always looked that tired? His lips part as if he’s about to speak, and you quickly avert your gaze as you feel your cheeks flush.

But still he says nothing.

“...I’m sorry, this probably isn’t what you want to hear from me at all.” You’ve let him down again. Nothing has changed. “I’m making everything worse--” but your rambling is cut off by a gentle hand over your clenched fist. Finally you realize you were so white knuckled that you were about to break the skin on your palm. Slowly, slowly, you relax your grip, and look up at him again. He’s gazing down at you with that warm smile you’d missed so much, yet he still looks concerned.

“No, I should be the one to apologize. I didn’t realize what said would hurt you so.” His expression softens, more wistful, but the smile fades. Immediately you miss that fleeing smile nearly as fiercely as you’ve missed him. “I don’t regret what I did that day, and I’d do it again without hesitation. I never would have been able to live with myself had I let you die. Please forgive my selfishness--I just wanted to see your smile one last time.”

You lean away so you can see him better, still trying to memorize his face, and try to force your expression into a smile. You feel the corners of your mouth move, but you know it’s not working. So why bother? Instead, you do what you’ve wanted to do since you saw him here, what you never had the chance to do before now, and lean back in and wrap him in a fierce hug. He puts his arms around you too, and you’re filled with a warmth you haven’t known since that bitterly cold day in Ishgard.

“I missed you,” you tell him, voice muffled by his chest.

“I missed you too,” he says, with his chin resting atop your head, and with the way you're positioned, you feel the statement as much as hear it.

For once, for just this moment, you allow yourself to let your guard down and sob into his shirt and

awaken to find that the cloth clinging damply to your cheek is just your pillowcase. You don’t move for several moments, or maybe eons. Was Myste responsible for this? Or just your own mundane subconscious? Begrudgingly, you push down the covers to let the blinding Light in. As you slowly sit up, you realize your hand still hurts too. You cradle it in your other hand, but your own touch is nothing like the gentleness in your dream. You look down to assess the damage, but all you can see is your memories.

Have you truly moved on? Are you truly forgiven?

Eventually your eyes focus on your palm to find that in real life you did break the skin. It stings a bit, but what little blood you drew has already dried.

Well, it’ll heal, you reason. All things do eventually. Some things just take longer than you thought.

* * *

The burning sensation in your chest is equal parts physical exertion from chasing after Elidibus and seething rage at his newest creation. You _know_ he’s messing with you, you _know_ this is exactly what he wants, but to deny the pain would be to allow him to think he was correct in his assessment of you as a heartless monster. And sure, the pain you’d experienced in your brief, incomplete lifetime must seem paltry to an immortal who had watched nearly everyone he knew and loved die (some by your hand, no less), but it was hard to care about his feelings when old emotional wounds you thought had healed were threatening to tear you apart again.

Elidibus was much further ahead now, no doubt ready to conjure the next set of new old faces to torment you, yet you’re frozen, stuck staring at this particular face that is all too familiar and yet not familiar enough. Slowly, very slowly, you walk forward, not because you want to, but because you feel you have to.

You know how this ends, but that doesn’t stop you. Few things ever have.

You stand before the specter of Haurchefant as he silently goes through the motions of conversing with his illusory father. You want to believe he’s looking at you, and not the shade behind you. You want to believe that he’s even here at all. But you know. You know all too well. Even so, you think back to your dream when you initially arrived here on the First, and without fully realizing what you’re doing until it’s too late, you reach forward to touch his chest, where you had buried your face in your dream…

Your hand passes through him, harmlessly. You stare at your arm buried in his torso, like some cruel joke you’ve played on yourself, the memories of the last time you saw him in life threatening to blind you. Sadness, regret, anger all well up within you and then...you take a deep, shuddering breath and let your arm fall to your side. For haven’t you done this all before? You’ve grappled with these emotions in the past, and you can do it again now. Now, and however many times you have to after this. It may never get easier, but you can learn to live with it. Even though you know he can’t see you, that he’s not even real, you look up at him and smile. The anger at yourself, at Elidibus--it all fades away and is replaced with an unexpected peacefulness.

_So long, old friend,_ you tell him silently. _Sleep well._ Resolve newly steeled, you finally find it within yourself to tear your eyes away, and sprint up the stairs after Elidibus. So what if it hurts? What could he do to you that you haven’t already done to yourself? No one was better at weaponizing your past against you than you, and you refuse to let this imposter get under your skin any more than he already has. Failing here would be a waste of the life given to you by those who had sacrificed theirs. For them, and for the sake of all of those you love both here and on the Source that you can still save, you press on.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a couple months ago and have been tweaking it in bits and pieces since then, but because today apparently is Haurchefant day, now seems like as good a time as any to finally post it.


End file.
